


The Rest of the Mass Effect Stuff

by DreamerInSilico



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Crack, F/F, Fluff, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 21:06:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16840420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamerInSilico/pseuds/DreamerInSilico
Summary: Microfic prompts from Tumblr.





	1. Chess

The game has become their inside joke, their code word for a haven against the battering demands of uniting a galaxy. Sometimes they even actually play it - Sam always wins, much to Shepard’s chagrin. It drives Shepard _crazy_ in a way that intentionally missing a shot in a sniping contest with Garrus didn’t, and she doesn’t know why, but she’s not thinking about that too hard. 

Instead, she’s thinking about smooth lips that quirk up into a half-smile as checkmate is declared yet again, about the wicked tongue that mocks her gently, and then proceeds to do things even more wicked and considerably less gentle to her skin. By now, Sam knows all the hidden, sensitive places that are yet unobstructed by callus or scar tissue, and the knowledge of that tends to make Shepard shiver at wholly inappropriate times. 

The same thing goes for the appropriate times, too, of course. 

The dark, good-humored eyes catch Shepard’s from across the table, and the holo-board is shoved away as Sam catches onto what she’s thinking, already reaching for Shepard’s short-cropped hair with coffee-skinned fingers and breathing hot promises against her neck. Shepard pulls her forward over the table, and the shared tumbler of whiskey spills, but neither of them care, Sam pulled securely into Shepard’s lap, already wrapping her legs around the muscled waist. 

Their lips meet, and it is here that Shepard regains the upper hand, her teeth and tongue taking possession of the other woman’s mouth, earning a sound like a purr from Sam’s throat and a tightening of those cool, precise fingers against the back of her head. Shepard’s arms lock at the small of Sam’s back, pulling her hard and tight against her middle, torturing her with the grind of still-clothed bodies. 

It’s going to be a long night, and neither of them will miss the sleep. 

The next day is Sam’s birthday, and when she finds the real chessboard with carved stone pieces waiting on the table, they share smug smiles and promise yet another rematch… later. 


	2. A White Picket Fence

“Sam, when is Elena coming home?” Edith’s eyes were that particular type of serious that only a six-year-old can manage, wide and guileless as she tugged at her mother’s hand. 

Samantha leaned down to kiss the top of her head as she opened the little gate in the whitewashed fence that surrounded their garden. "Edi, sweetheart, I told you yesterday - she’s got shore leave coming in two weeks. And then, she will come and see us, and we’ll all have a grand time.“ 

"And you will play a lot of chess with her,” the girl added, matter-of-fact. "But I think you should take the board out of your bedroom sometime. I want to watch!“ 

Samantha couldn’t help it - she cracked up, laughing silently into her hand. 

"What’s so funny?” 

“I’ll tell you when you’re older, love,” she gasped. _At which point, she probably won’t want to hear it…_

Edi rolled her eyes exaggeratedly and stuck her lower lip out in a pout, but it only lasted as long as it took Samantha to pick a violet from a nearby pot and tuck it into the girl’s hair. "But, I’ll tell you a story now, if you want,“ she added. 

"Tell me the one about Elena and the Archangel again!” Edi demanded, her face lighting up. 

“ _Again?_ Oh, alright, but your Uncle Garrus tells it much better than I do…”


	3. Standards of 'Strange'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "Shepard sees Tali without her environment suit. Your choice of reason, location, etc. Impressions."

The adrenaline crash and relief making her no small bit giddy, Shepard shook her head and almost laughed when she got into sickbay and saw the translucent wall of thin, translucent polymer. 

_That salarian is a goddamned Boy Scout._

Leave it to Mordin to have a collapsible clean room chamber just lying around the lab when they needed it. She had no doubts it had saved Tali’s life. 

“How are you doing, Tali?” she asked hesitantly through the curtain-like wall. 

“Given that I haven’t succumbed to an infection yet, pretty well.” Her voice sounded strange without the slight synthetic edge that always came from speaking through an enviro-helmet. 

“I’m… really glad. I was worried back there.” 

The quarian let out a soft, trilling laugh. "I think I’m grateful I was unconscious by the time the second or third suit rupture happened. One is frightening; five is… time to panic.“ 

"I, um, brought you a meal box. I’m passing it into the decon-chamber now,” Shepard said. 

“You can come in here, you know, Shepard.” Tali sounded amused. "Doctor Chakwas’ suit and mask should be nearby, and I think I’m starting to go a little crazy staring at white plastic walls all day. I could use the company.“ 

Shepard blinked. "Oh! Alright. I’ll be right in; I’ve got time.” 

When Shepard made her crinkling, awkward way into the chamber, swathed in antimicrobial plastic, Tali was sitting on the cot with her arms crossed. She looked smaller in just the body stocking worn under an enviro-suit and tight-seal medigel bandages, and… somehow, Shepard had always assumed her skin was just about that shade of dull mauve. Her face was sharp, all bony angles and large, steeply-slanted eyes that almost brought to mind a fox, albeit a very strangely colored one. Perhaps the most startling thing about her was the bone ridges that swept back from what would have been eyebrows on a human, giving her head a frilled appearance a bit like turian’s, but smooth and organic-looking where turians were armored. 

Why the hell had Shepard expected her to have hair? Humans were pretty unusual in that respect. 

Tali’s thin lips twitched, and her eyes narrowed, as Shepard watched her… and then the quarian burst out laughing. "Oh, Shepard, you look _ridiculous_ in that suit.“


	4. Poker Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shepard + Jack. Not romance so much as Jack learning that "Not everyone sucks."

“So then the enforcers came after _me_ , instead, and you know how much I hate it when someone tries to pick a fight.” Jack drew a card and tossed back the remainder of her whiskey. 

“Not at all?” Shepard suggested with a smirk, eyeing her own hand. 

“Right. They were all cocky ‘n shit, too, called me 'little girl’…” 

The commander snorted. "Oh dear.“ 

"Yeah, I took my time with them. Their own fault for trying to cap me. Got this one - ” she indicated a jaggedly-shaped blue tattoo on her shoulder - “to celebrate. Full house.” 

“Four queens,” Shepard said, laying down her own hand. 

Jack eyed her balefully. "You cheat.“

"So do you.”

She laughed. "…got me there.“


	5. You Remind Me Of The...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I have *no* idea how you’re going to do this one: Commander Shepard (M/F, don’t care) faces off against Jareth. Alternatively, they simply meet up. First impressions included as a bonus!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was first known as a Labyrinth writer and I'm pretty sure the Goblin King is going to follow me everywhere, forever.

Slumped against the control panel and feeling the slow, steady creep of her own blood between her fingers, Shepard barely noticed when the floor beneath her began to rise. "Shepard! Commander Shepard!“ Hackett’s voice demanded tinnily from what must have been the most tenacious commlink she’d ever owned… because she certainly didn’t have any idea where it was… 

_It’s not fair_ , she complained to the silent stars and blossoming explosions beyond the tall viewport. _I’ve come through untold amounts of shit, and innumerable deathtraps, here to end of the world, and now they want more from me? I’m as good as underground already._

But she was Commander Shepard, the first human Spectre and the blasted Savior of the Galaxy, so she dragged herself to her feet again when the platform came to a stop. Before her… there was light. Bright light, surrounding… what looked like a person? 

She squinted, trying to make out the shape through glow. 

"What are - ?” she began, haltingly. 

“I am the Catalyst,” came a voice that tickled at her mind like an oncoming sneeze. Where had she heard it before? 

“You mean I’ve fought my way here to the Citadel beyond the battle to end the war, and you’re a friggen’ glittery beam of light? What is going _on_?” 

“Such _manners_. You have only a short time to make your choice, so I suggest you listen.” The voice was dry, masculine, and amused - and the light was slowly dimming to a more tolerable level as the form within became more distinct. 

Slowly, the Catalyst resolved into the shimmering, lithe shape of a man with long, spiked hair, and…

…ridiculously tight pants. 

Commander Sarah Shepard rolled her eyes. "Okay, none of this really made sense before, but now I _know_ I’m hallucinating. You have no power over me, jerkass.“


End file.
